


Ours

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Oliver and Felicity are a newly married couple, and they've decided it's time for a new home. While Felicity wants to decorate and finish each room. Oliver has plans of his own, but with some unforeseen interruptions, will he be able to see them through?





	

( _Olicity edit by[mequebecolicityfan](http://mequebecolicityfan.tumblr.com/post/152830928282/dmichellewrites-dmichellewrites) from 505 "Human Target"_ )

Star City is oddly bright and sunny for this time of year. A few weeks ago Oliver and Felicity had a beautiful outdoor winter wedding at Starling Botanical Gardens, and from there the Queen couple ventured back to Bali. Their honeymoon spot was still as fun as ever. They spent one week in paridise swimming, hiking, sightseeing, and lovin' each other. The couple snapped so many new photos of their amazing adventures there. Well, ones they could show their friends from the great outdoors. And now, they've planned to finally move into a new home they bought that's located just on the outskirts of the city during their final engagement. Felicity's looking out of the window on the passenger side, hand cupping her cheek. A soft smile tilts on her patent red lips. This moment, this day is one to be remembered. It's their first home together as a married couple. Sure, they've previously purchased a place in Ivy Town. But this time just feels a bit different. Maybe it's because Oliver and Felicity aren't the same as the strangers who met six years ago. They've both grown. Oliver keeps his eyes focused on the road. His free hand is practically tethered to Felicity's across the center console. The diamonds on her engagement and wedding rings catch the light just before they pull up to their new home. The Range Rover comes to a stop as they park in their new driveway. Their house now is somewhat reminiscent of their old place in Ivy Town. It's a pale blue color with accents of crisp white. Their front door is a dark, yet still inviting shade of red. A lush green fern adorns the center of their garage door. Thankfully, for Felicity's liking, their new house isn't anywhere near annoying neighbors, and the large kitchen with stainless steel appliances is a real bonus for Oliver.

"You look happy." Oliver notes at his wife's content expression, opening the door for her. "Don't tell me you're going to enjoy the moving process without much help?"

Felicity's blue Converse shoes touch the ground with a subtle thud.

A chuckle escapes her mouth, "These are the moments when I remember you've had money since you were born. C'mon, rich boy, it'll be fun."

"Well, we do have money again." He reminds, escorting his wife to the front door.

"Some, bu... uh." She's taken aback by a sudden sense of weightlessness, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Carrying my bride over the thresh hold."

His smile is toothy and broad as Felicity grips his shoulders tightly. Her eyes squeeze shut.

"Watch those first two steps," His wife warns, nerves jangling along with her voice. "Be careful."

When Oliver uses one hand to retrieve his key and open the front door, Felicity quells the urge to flick the back of her husband's head, and remind him again to be careful. Her ears vaguely perk up to the sound of the front door creaking open. Oliver steps inside over the thresh hold with Felicity securely in his strong arms, though she doesn't seem to share the same sentiment as her nails prod over one of Oliver's favorite navy peacoats. 

"Felicity, Honey. I've got you." He promises, a hint of cute, yet annoying amusement in his tone. "You can open your eyes now."

"Put me down first."

Oliver utters insistently, "No. Baby, c'mon. Just open your eyes for me."

"Ha!" Felicity points outs, eyes remaining firmly shut. "Nope. You only call me 'baby' when you want something."

Well, that didn't work. But this will.

"Felicity." He whispers sexily, dragging each and every syllable of her name. God, there's just something about the way Oliver says her name. His tone is so utterly seductive- needy, though at the same tone it's more like a tone she hears only when they're in bed together, doing their other nightly activities.

She relents in a grumbled, "Fine."

Her gaze is greeted with stark white walls and clean dark hardwood floors.

Finally setting Felicity back down, her husband prompts, "Well, what do you think? Do you still like it as much as the first time we saw it?"

"Of course." She nods. This is home, and it was theirs. But it's still pretty much vacant. "Before we can officially move in, we need our furniture."

"Right." He agrees affirmatively, reminding his wife. "But when Curtis, Thea, and Dig stop by with moving truck, let us do all the heavy lifting."

Felicity scoffs, hand resting on her hip, "Excuse me? Are you trying to tell me I'm weak?"

"No. Felicity, you're the strongest person I know." Oliver denies hastily, caressing her waist. "I just don't wanna risk you throwing out your back. You know as well as I do with your biostimulant chip, your back is a very delicate part of your body, and you have to be extremely careful."

"I know. I know." She sighs, sounding more like she did in front of her mother when she left for M.I.T. "However, I have a system to maximize the efficiency of the moving process. The densest, heaviest boxes were put into the truck first, creating a solid foundation for the rest of the boxes. And providing maximum recovery time during the most physical moments of moving, so there's a significantly less chance of injury."

Still, he wonders, "I don't see why we couldn't hire a mover. We have enough money to..."

"Honey," Felicity interrupts, "Like I said, it'll be fun. Besides we're not doing this all by ourselves, we have the help of our family and friends."

"But..."

"Oliver, look..."

"Baby, this isn't just me being a snobby, rich guy." Her husband mentions, holding her close to his chest, "I just think it would be faster for us and safer for you."

Her response is muffled against his navy peacoat, "Will you ever stop worrying about me so much?"

He laughs, "I could ask you the same question."

Felicity pulls back slightly, her gaze flickering up to his.

"Oliver, look in order for us to make this house feel like a home, I want to work on it together with our friends and family. I want to see you building stuff we can cherish and use years later. I want you to ask me where certain things go like I'll do the same for you. Because Hell if I know where your Rockets, Thunder, and WWE sports fanatic crap goes."

"Hey, those are valuable collectors items." Oliver objects, clearly affronted.

"Mm... Seriously honey. Who needs twenty different hats to root for their hometown team?" Felicity argues. "Although, that Justin Carson is really hot."

"Hm?"

"Um, I meant his jersey is really hot." She corrects before pecking his lips, "You know how I always like to wear it to bed."

Her husband chimes in disbelief, "Uh-huh."

"Okay, we got some of the small stuff. The faster we get work done, the faster we can relax." His wife reminds as she heads back to their truck, playfully smacking his ass on the way out. "So let's get to work, Queen."

"Yes, ma'am." Oliver obliges, returning the favor with a sneaky love tap on her rear after he strips off his coat

Oliver and Felicity begin with their living room. They bring in some light end tables, lamps, vases, and a random decorative bowl of clear marbles. Felicity eyes the perfect spots for some of their favorite abstract paintings and knickknacks, which they hang up in no time at all. Oliver installs a ceiling fan while Felicity holds the ladder steady. Much to their surprise, it actually works well. Oliver, the man who couldn't do his own laundry until his mid-twenties, is actually pretty handy around the house. He loves to work with his hands, and Felicity knows that all too well. Out of pride, she pulls Oliver into a tight hug before they move onto the kitchen. Felicity makes sure to plug in her favorite coffee maker while Oliver tucks away his precious slow cooker. They stack multiple sets of dishes, pots, and pans in cabinets and drawers. Felicity takes notice of her husband, eyeing the design of a rather expensive Williams-Sonoma soup spoon.

"Honey, before you ask me anything I wish I got the same thrill as you when choosing between the dimpled flatware and the scalloped, but I don't. Now if you really don't like it, we'll get another set. But remember it was a wedding gift from Curtis and Paul, so we at least have to use it when they're here. Okay?"

"Fair enough."

Oliver places the offending dimpled soup spoon in the very back of the drawer, mentally making a shopping list.

"Poor baby." Felicity coos, rubbing his back in consolation. "Was that so hard?"

"I guess not." But two can play at this game. His eyebrows arches, "Hey, need I remind you that you weren't crazy about the digital camera Evelyn and Rene got us."

"Please. The tech on that Nikon is so 2006."

"Okay. Okay. Sorry I brought it up." He huffs out a laugh before his arm ensnares her waist, pulling Felicity to his side. "What's next on our list?"

"Hmm..." She thinks for a moment, finger pressed to her chin as she figures, "Bedroom. We may as well get it done, so we can sleep here tonight, and then work on some more stuff tomorrow."

"Really, so does that mean we get to have a break?"

"Ah, work first." His wife chides, biting back a relentless moan as Oliver's lips find her neck. "Then, play. Besides we kinda need a bed, so we can..."

Her promise drops to a sultry whisper just for him, but it is in fact, a definite promise for later. One that makes him practically sprint up the stairs as if he's chasing after a bad guy. She shakes her head, a smile's plastered on her lips yet again as she follows right behind him. Oliver assembles the IKEA bed frame, piece by piece while Felicity reads the instructions to him. She stops briefly, and her eyes linger on his butt squatting down by the nearly completed frame. That angle and those black jeans give her the absolutely perfect view of his ass. At the mention of her name, they get back on track. Unfortunately for Oliver, his thumb gets into a bad run-in with a hammer. Felicity takes the liberty of wrapping it, icing it, and even adorably kissing it better before she gets their bed sheets. But first, they place in their king size mattress. By the time Oliver is sliding in their small black leather couch for upstairs by himself, the one he so diligently strapped to the roof of their Range Rover. Felicity is finished fluffing pillows and folding sheets.

"Hey, no napping on the job, Mrs. Queen." Oliver teases lovingly upon seeing the sight of Felicity already laying on her side of their bed, "You alright? Honey, did you..."

Felicity squeaks out a rather unconvincing, "No."

"Felicity."

The second time he says her name in that special way of his isn't so desirable. It's much more admonishing.

"Fine." She admits, "I probably twisted it wrong when we moved the mattress, and please I am not in the mood for an 'I told you so.'"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Baby."

On that note, Oliver begins to draw their gray curtains closed.

Her lips pucker in suspicion, "And just what are you up to, mister?"

"You'll see," Her husband smirks, striding over to her.

Her eyes slip shut, arching her back as she attempts to ease the pain herself. But before Felicity can stretch even more goosebumps prickle her skin from air seeping in through the open window, which remains cracked just a hair. She sees nothing but darkness behind her blue eyes. Despite that, she's acutely aware of familiar calloused fingers flicking open the buttons of her coral blouse.

"Oliver, not now." Felicity requests, thinking his gesture is leading to sex. "I just told you I tw..."

"I know." Oliver interrupts, pulling off her shirt. Then he proceeds to flip her over like a pancake. "That's why I'm thinking you could use a back rub."

"Just a back rub?"

"Just a back rub," He repeats, kneeling on the mattress with her in between his legs. "For now."

She barely has time to remove her glasses before she succumbs his touch. He plants a tender kiss to her first very scar in the field on her left shoulder, the bullet wound she earned from Clock King. His calloused hands almost match the roughness of her mangled skin. Felicity's got multiple scars Oliver wishes he can heal now, wishes he could've prevented during the ambush with Darhk's Ghosts. However, now isn't a time for Oliver to stew in a pot of his own guilt like a broody soup. This is about making her feel some sense of relief, understanding he can take away some of that pain for her. Just as he did when she wasn't feeling like herself. Felicity had a brief period of time after her hospital stay where she wasn't feeling confident about her work or her body. Oliver knows better than anyone how scars could take awhile to get used to, so he's shown her how much he much with his words, body, and soul. Eventually, Felicity's regained that strength for herself in more ways than one, and now she wears those marks on her body like badges of honor. His hands sweep over the expanse of her bare back at first, trying to pinpoint the tension. When he finds it, his fingers deftly knead over the knots in her mid to lower back, eliciting little whimpers from his wife. He continues his ministrations, and her whimpers grow into languid moans.

Felicity desperately lets out unbidden encouragements, " _Oh, don't stop. Don't stop. Right there_."

"God," Oliver sighs, looking up at the ceiling. He repeats, "This is supposed to be her, not you," silently like a mantra in his head, though that does nothing to stop his blood from rushing down south. In this position, he's suddenly so aware of how much he wants her, the feel her supple skin under his rough hands, her moans that drift right to his ear, the way her hair's splayed out so angelically, when her fingers grab fistfuls of sheets, and the curve of her ass right by his oncoming erection. It's everything, and yet he's willing to wait her. He always has. He always will - no matter what.

With a turn of her head, his wife commands in a breath, "Oliver, take your shirt off."

"But I thought you wanted..."

"Please for me."

He nods emphatically, letting his shirt unceremoniously hit the floor. Oliver wants to go back to Felicity's massage, making sure she feels better. He wouldn't do anything if she isn't ready and willing first. But he doesn't even get a chance to check on her before she turns over, shoving him back against the pillows.

"Felicity, are you sure you're okay? I can..."

"I'm fine. I'm better now. I swear."

It's all she says before she straddles him like a surfboard. Felicity flips one side of her blonde locks to really look at him before her hands trail down the scars on his chest. Just as he did to her mere moments ago. She rests atop the perfect spot before their mouths crash into each other in an ardent kiss. They exchange little pecks almost as if they're breathing in the same air. Oliver releases a guttural moan at the skin on skin contact that's coupled with his wife snaking her tongue in his mouth. Their hips grind against slowly and purposefully, building their pleasure all before it becomes too much. When they make love this time, it's not going to be like his birthday last year in the van after a mission because Oliver doesn't just want to come in his pants again. Neither does Felicity. Their respective black and blue jeans join their shirts on the floor. Oliver gains the upper hand, and his body blankets hers. His hot kisses journey from her smeary red stained lips to her jaw to her neck, pausing to suck on the sweet spot of her pulse point. Her teeth clamp down on her lower lip just as she initially feels light caresses at her inner thigh near her clothed entrance. His hands brushes delicately over the sky blue fabric of her panties before it settles on her lower abdomen. Felicity grunts in frustration. The tease! He's started all this, and he better finish it. In fact, it better be one mind-blowing finish.

With a glint in his azure eyes, her husbands vows, "It will be. I promise."

Frack, she's said that out loud. Damn her lack of a brain to mouth filter at times.

"Oliver," She orders, looking directly at him, "Just do it."

His hand cups his sex, rubbing firmly, yet gently until she just about loses it. A silky wetness creates a darkened stain on her panties. Oliver does all, but rip them off of her. In actuality, he slides them down gently before two fingers slip into her increasing hot, damp core with ease. His stubble is going to leave little pink prick marks upon many, many areas of her skin. But at the moment, she can't give a damn. Because all she feels is him, inside her, over her, against her. It's everything and it's nearly perfect. Her walls pulse around his fingers as they continue pumping slowly.

Oliver plant tender kisses on her thigh, etching them with an "I love you," repeatedly against her skin. He knows just how to get her there quickly, but he wants to take his time. This home is theirs, and they should have amazingly memorable sex to commemorate that fact.

" _Oh God. Oh God._." Felicity keens languidly, nearing her release. She can feel it emanating from the tightness in her core. Oliver can feel in how snugly she's clenching around his fingers, but suddenly a ringing cellphone breaks them out of their rhythm. Recognizing the custom ringtone, Felicity's trembling arm attempts to reach for her phone. "Oh God. It's... It's Curtis."

"Are you kidding me?" Her husband complains in exasperation, "Don't answer it now."

"I can't... I can't... Ah!"

She foregoes the ringing cellphone. Her arm falls back against the green and blue Chevron striped comforter, grabbing fistfuls of sheets. Felicity yells out Oliver's name in throes of pleasure when his fingers find an elusive spot and his thumb so much as grazes her clit. Her back arches towards his hand as wetness coats his fingers. Her toes curl as her breaths comes out in pants.

Meanwhile outside of their new home, Curtis informs on the phone. "Felicity, I'm outside with the truck. Call me back as soon as you get this."

Back upstairs, Oliver waits until Felicity's erratic breathing slows. He hovers over her, propping himself up his forearms. After a few minutes, her gaze meets his, and the way that he looks at her is so, tender and so loving. She's his forever, always, everything, and more.

With a minute smile on his lips, Oliver greets in a hushed tone, "Hey."

"Hey, stranger." Felicity replies playfully.

Her fingertips trace ambiguous patterns over his biceps. Their noses brush against each other before they share yet another tender smooch. Eventually, Oliver's boxers make their way to the floor. Her legs bracket his lower back, and her hands card over to his broad shoulders.

All the way outside, Curtis spots a familiar red car. Thea parks right behind the moving van, and Dig's along for the ride. Curtis lets out a full-bodied laugh. For once he's unable to fathom something like how just someone is big, bad ass, and strong as Dig manages to fit in the passenger seat of a compact Lexus.

"Hey, guys." Curtis calls hence.

Dig inquires, "What are you doing out here, man?"

"Yeah," Thea adds, "We were all supposed to meet Ollie and Felicity here."

"I don't have a key. I tried calling Felicity's cell. No answer."

"Well, their car is here, so they're definitely home."

Thea suggests, "Why don't I try the house? Felicity just gave me their new number yesterday."

She dials speedily, yet still there's no answer. But her call is only met with: "Hey, this is Oliver. And Felicity. We're not here right now. Obviously. So leave us a message after the tone."

"So cheesy. Ollie and Felicity took turns on their answering machine and finish each others sentences." Thea tells her friends with a feigned gag.

Just as Thea leaves them a voicemail, Oliver and Felicity's thrusts make their newly assembled bed creak underneath them. They've lost all sense of rhythm and gentleness. The sound of skin slapping against each other mingles with noisy breaths. Oliver can feel that delicious pleasure tingling at the very base of his spine, but he wants to get Felicity there first. His mouth hones in on her neck, biting gently as she reaches another release. That response only triggers his.

"Fuck, Felicity." Oliver grits outs as pleasure rockets through both of them simultaneously.

He collapses on top of her, yet she revels in that feeling, loving that she's the only woman who gets to see Oliver, the real Oliver, and not the charming-for-the-media politician. She loves the feel of his sweaty body sticking to her damp skin. Felicity loves knowing that their heart beats are drumming rapidly against each other. A hand slips between his wife's back and their bed as he caresses the scars at the center of her spine as well as the ones just below her shoulders. His tired moan grazes against her flushed bare skin. Her fingertips skim the scars on his chest and back as well, raking over his arrow branding scar.

Cupping his stubble, Felicity whispers, "I love you."

"I love you too," Oliver immediately responds, brushing his lips against hers.

Dig's _this_ short of honking the horn. He knows. He always does. He's actually known the minute he saw closed curtains in Oliver and Felicity's second story window, but he remains mum for Thea's benefit.

Thea growls, "Where the Hell are they?"

"You don't wanna know."

"Huh?" Curtis wonders, running his fingers through his cornrows. Dig shoots him a poignant look. "Oh... _Oh_. Got it."

"Got what?" Thea demands, stomping her boot in annoyance.

"Should I tell her, or..?"

Dig advises, "No. No. They're family, and no little sisters wants to hear about..."

"Oh." Thea shudders. Understanding finally dawns upon her. "Gross!"

Once Oliver and Felicity are cleaned up. bright sunlight pours in from their now open curtains. Felicity's back muscles crease when she drapes herself in her coral button up blouse.

"Oh, Frack!"

"What?" Oliver asks, grabbing his black jeans.

Felicity informs, hastily buttoning her shirt. "The team's outside, and they look pissed."

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca)


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